Just Another Riddle
by Phantasmagorical Me
Summary: Carren Paradizo prefers to sit in her apartment. Alone. Writing, or reading, or drawing, drinking tea (not coffee, not ever). But her innate ability to read other people and figure them out as easily as you and I were to put together a puzzle causes Nick Fury to call her in, and under the pretense of supervision, figure out a certain mischief god. To her, he's just another riddle.
1. Chapter 1

**Carren's POV**

The apartment was cold when I woke up.

Very cold. I snuggled deeper into my blankets, struggling to cover my feet, but half of the bed clothes had fallen from the bed and the other half was tangled around my midsection, providing minimal warmth against the chill. My toes and fingers were numb.

I curled my hands into fists to attempt to keep them warmer, but to no avail.

Sighing in resignation I rose from the sheets, opening my eyes and blinking blearily against the early gray dawn of New York City.

The clock informed me that it was currently a few minutes after four. But that didn't stop the traffic. New York traffic stopped for no one. It could be one in the morning for all it cared. Even now at this ungodly hour I could hear the disjounted cacophony of car horns and revving of engines from down in the streets, punctuated by the occasional shout of someone hailing a taxi.

No point in trying to fall asleep again. I drifted from my room without bothering to rearrange the sheets and headed to the kitchen to heat up the stove to make tea.

Unlike 99% of the population of teenagers and young adults of the world, I was one of the few who preferred tea to coffee. I disliked the idea of filling my blood with something that I would crave constantly (surprising, I know). Caffeine was practically a drug to me, and I avoided it as such.

After the water boiled I poured it into a mug and dropped in a tea bag. Then I drank and stared out the window as the city slowly woke.

After only half an hour the sidewalk was soon choked with people- the businessmen in their dark suits holding their briefcases, the businesswomen in their muted-color skirts and jackets, the young girls in their colorful outfits and the young boys in their jeans that sagged way too low.

The phone rang. I ignored it.

It rang again. In the back of my mind where I wasn't annoyed, I admired the person's tenacity. It went to voicemail.

Again, it rand and this time I rose from my seat with an impatient sigh, heading over to where my land line was connected to the wall, hands still firmly clasped to my mug of tea. I didn't even bother to glance at the caller ID before putting it on speakerphone (in retrospect I know it wouldn't have mattered; the number was blocked).

"Hello?" I sipped my tea.

"Carren Paradizo."

I promptly hit the disconnect button and then made my way back to my seat, duly prepared to ignore it again if it chose to ring.

It did, but, unlike the other times, this time it answered itself, putting itself on speakerphone so I didn't have to inconvenience myself with getting up to do it. "Carren. Don't be difficult."

"Don't you know better?" I replied calmly. "How did you get my number?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"So I can prevent it from happening again when I change it." I tucked my feet up to my chest. "What do you want, Fury?"

"I've got a job for you."

"Not interested."

"Hear me out."

"What part of "not interested" do you not understand?"

"Carren, I need you to come in."

"You don't _need _me to do anything, Fury. You _want _me to come in, because currently I'm the most convenient person in your database of helpful specimens."

"Will you listen to what I have to say or not?"

I briefly debated saying no, to throw the word in his face and relish his reaction, but curiosity won out over malignancy. "You have two minutes. I'm starting the timer." Although I didn't budge from my seat.

"I need you as a supervisor." His voice was slightly rushed due to my nonexistent timer threat. "We have someone here at HQ-"

"Now I'm a babysitter?" I broke in distastefully.

"You didn't let me finish. Remember the attack on New York we had about a month or two ago?"

"I still have Chitauri blood on my carpet."

"...did you even _try _to evacuate?"

"I didn't feel any particular need, no. Why? Is that abnormal? Should I have tried to turn tail and run instead of beating the aliens to death with a baseball bat?"

There was a sigh over the line. "We have the leader of the attack in our custody."

"Congrats."

He ignored the sarcasm. "He's here to try to learn some remorse from the reign of terror- albeit brief reign of terror- he inflicted upon our city. Community service."

"What a load of drivel. You just want him to suffer the loss of defeat over and over again don't you, you sadist?"

"Hark, who's talking?" He coutnered, and I shrugged.

"Touché. Where do I come into this masterfully designed plan of slow revenge?"

"Well, recently this leader- Loki, his name is- has gotten a bit moody. Stark- Tony Stark, that is- is forcing him to help rebuild his tower-"

"What, that ugly building in the middle of New York that supposedly runs on clean energy and has his much-resented name plastered up at the top?"

"-and in the past week Loki has made more mistakes than he had in the first month. It's quite ridiculous. And he's becoming unbearable. Several people have been reassigned already."

"What makes you think I'll be any better?"

"Well, I just figured. No one can stand you. No one can stand him. Maybe you'll teach him to behave."

"Careful, Fury," I warned. "I was just starting to seriously consider your plea."

"Since when have I been pleading with you?"

"Frankly, it's obvious." I took another gulp of my tea. "You need me after all. Well, me and my abilities. You want me to figure out what's wrong with him."

"Get over yourself." Fury scoffed. "I only need you to come in because you won't beg to be reassigned within the first couple of hours. Maybe you'll get a week in before you crack just like the rest of them."

I flushed in anger. "Fury-"

"Are you coming in or not, Paradizo?"

I tried to reign in my emotions. Again, the little malicious part of me wanted to say no. It wanted to turn hi down and mock him. It wanted to hang up.

But again, curiosity won out.

"Fine. I'm coming in. But... goddamnit, screw you, Fury."

There was a click as the line went dead. I scowled and made a mental note to change my phone number... again.

* * *

Fury calmly removed the bluetooth from his ear and tossed it onto the glass table in front of him. Then he took a deep breath.

Maria frowned and removed a finger from her own bluetooth, from which she had been listening to the conversation. "Director Fury?"

"Yes, Hill?"

"Wasn't she right, though? Wasn't the whole point of having Paradizo come in was to have her tell us what Laufeyson's deal is?"

"You think I'm going to give her the satisfaction? I know how it is with her. You give that girl an armrest, she'll take the whole chair. Before you know it she's in the power seat. Manipulator. She'll find out on her own. And she'll tell us. Too curious for her own good."

"But isn't that good for us?"

"Yes. It is."

* * *

A letter- more like a note- came to me in the mail later that day. It read:

_Dear Ms. Paradizo,_

_You have been requested to come to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters on behalf of Director Nick Fury for a supervision assignment. Please be ready early tomorrow morning to come in for your job. If you have any questions, please call using the number on the badge enclosed._

_Thank you for your cooperation,  
Maria Hill_

With it was a badge. I sighed and turned it over


	2. Chapter 2

**Carren's POV**

Apparently, Nick Fury and I differ quite drastically when it comes to our definitions of "ready."

I don't know what _he _thought it meant, but when a young woman in a familiar black military uniform showed up at the front door of my apartment the next morning, I was wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, holding a disposable cup of my favorite tea and armed with a pen and a moleskin notebook.

"Um..." She faltered for the briefest second, taking in my messy appearance (more namely my rat's nest hair) with surprise. But she recovered impressively quickly. "My name is Maria Hill. I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D." She stuck out a hand and, after a little pause of hesitation, I shook it. Her eyes flicked up to my hair again. "Do you want a few more minutes to prepare yourself...?"

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it..." I headed back into my apartment and then came back with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders as protection against the icy cold. "Okay, now I'm ready."

I wasn't sure, but for a second I could've sworn she almost smiled. "This way then." And then she directed me towards a black car with tinted windows and a driver wearing dark sunglasses and anear piece that would've thought only existed in spy movies (had I not known of S.H.I.E.L.D.).

I climbed in slightly awkwardly, considering I was clutching a blanket around my person while carrying a hot drink, but eventually I got myself settled. Maria took the seat next to me and the car sped off.

"Are you here to debrief me before arrival?" I asked nonchalantly, sipping my tea and grimacing as the scalding liquid trickled down my throat.

"Yes." She hesitated and looked over at me, brown eyes both curious and wary, slightly reminiscent of a doe who had never seen humans before. I chuckled.

"Has Fury mentioned me a lot?" I questioned, slightly amused, although I already knew the answer.

To her credit, she didn't flinch. "What makes you ask that?"

"You're looking at me in a way that suggests you think I'm going to run at you and attack or something." I shifted in my seat, smirking. "I presume you were listening into Fury and I's cozy little chat yesterday?"

"Standard security protocol." She replied stiffly. I waved my hand in a dismissive matter.

"You misunderstand me. I don't hold it against you. Now, for the briefing...?"

"Ah, right." She paused again, and then launched into an explanation. "Lau- _Loki _is your charge. Most of the time he's out repairing parts of the city and Stark Tower, but when he's catching a break he rests in a cell in the middle of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He's already monitored by about a hundred cameras, but your job is to sit at a station in close view of the cell and... well, frankly put up with him."

"What is it about him that makes him so insufferable?"

"Most people find him... difficult, to say the least. His presence alone has an unsettling effect, firstly. Employees have filed complaints about nausea, vertigo, headaches, etcetera. Secondly, if that doesn't put people off, his running sarcastic commentary gets them banging their heads against the wall. Thinly-veiled insults. Backhanded comments. Slurs about the human race and so on."

"Sounds like a savory character. And my job is merely to sit there and take it all in and watch him to make sure he doesn't bust out of his cell?"

"Roughly. There are a few other tasks, but those will be explained by Agent Kim when you arrive at your post. Any questions?"

"Just one." Here, I paused, debating on whether or not to ask. Maria glanced at me expectantly, and I forged ahead. "Loki... they say he's a god." I looked at her with pleading eyes, as if begging her to tell me it wasn't true. "Is he really?"

Silence. Maria took a few moments to survey me, as if wondering what effect her answer would have on me. I simply waited with baited breath, staring back, hoping my face gave nothing away.

Finally she spoke. "It is unclear. But from what we can gather about Asgard and his abilities and his age... yes. He is a god."

I felt a rueful grin spread across my face. _That's what I was afraid of. _"I'm sorry I asked."

And she couldn't get another word out of me for the entire car ride.

* * *

When we arrived at HQ, I let out a low whistle of admiration. "Looks like things have changed quite a bit over the years."

"You've been here before?" Maria sounded surprised as the car pulled up.

"Shocking, I know. Only a couple of times, though. Whenever I'm at Fury's convenience." I didn't elaborate further and she got the hint.

"Go in through the front. A quick swipe from your badge should get you through reception."

"Got it. Thanks." I jumped out fthe car and shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around me. I left the disposable cup in the car; I had finished with the tea anyway. In the back of my mind I wondered if I could get some more tea somewhere.

"Good luck." And with that the man drove the vehicle away.

I'm sure I made quite a sight, walking towards the front doors of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, my pajamas and blanket offering stark contrast from the black business suits and uniforms of the people around me. A few curious glances and suspicious frowns were thrown my way, but I ignored them and they left me alone.

Reception was a different matter altogether. The lobby was dead silent when I waltzed in, so it felt like sacrilege walking up to the secretary's desk and speaking.

"Um..." I fished my badge out form my pajama pants pocket and put in on the desk. "Super-secret agent stuff... I have to report for a supervision assignment... personal request from Nick Fury? So... please... let me through."

The please was thrown in as an afterthought.

The secretary looked up and squinted. She had coiffed dark brown hair set in an elaborate hair style on top of her head, and I could easily tell that she was wearing mascara. Her skin reminded me of that of a model wearing too much makeup– without the Photoshop to make it look natural.

Her critical eyes traveled down my form to my less-than-flattering outfit and the blanket draped around my shoulders.

"I don't think so," She drawled, drawng out her syllables in an infuriating matter. "Personal request from Nick Fury? Uh-uh. You don't look it. I don't let little girls in."

I felt my cheeks heat up; not with embarrassment, but in anger, and I was about to let this benighted receptionist have it when a man bounded in through a side door.

He was tall and Asian, with black hair spiked up in the front with too much gel, a grin on his face and dark eyes. I barely managed to read the surname 'Kim' on his badge before he slung an arm around my shoulders and flashed the receptionist a white smile.

"Aw, Becca, what are you talking about?" He glanced at me and winked, as if to say _go along with it. _"From where I'm standing, no little girls here– all the right curves in all the right places."

I rolled my eyes as the secretary- Becca- looked at us with her eyes narrowed and her eybrows drawn in tight with suspicion.

"She's my girlfriend." Kim explained.

"You wish." I shot at him and disentangled his arm from my form, glaring. "And thanks for your help, but I really don't need it." I turned back to Becca and scowled. "That's fine– don't believe me. But I don't want to be here when Nick comes in in all his righteous, trench-coated one-eyed fury and blames _you _for scaring away one of his agents."

And with that parting statement, I turned on my heel and started to stalk off.

I was stopped with a hand on my wrist. "Aw, c'mon, babe. I was just joking. I know who you are– Carren Paradizo, right? Come with me. I'm your boss."

* * *

"You would have no idea what a pain in the neck it is to be in charge of the Loki thing." Kim- I learned his first name was Kevin- complained as we went down hall after hall in the labyrinthine corridors of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

"You must be suffering so badly." I mumurered sarcastically, shuffling after him, making careful note of every turn we made. He nodded morosely, sympathizing with himself.

"I am. Haven't had a proper date in... what, a month? Yeesh. Fury's really pilling it on. Especially with all of the other agents begging to be reassigned... oh well. Maybe you'll last longer."

"I intend to last a great deal longer than all of the imbeciles you put before me."

"Rather well-spoken, aren't you? And is that a trace of a French accent?"

I gave him a cautious look. He was sharper than I gave him credit. "I got my college degree at nineteen. I would hope that the education paid off. And yes, I am French. I would have thought "Paradizo" gave it away."

"Hm. I thought your surname sounded a bit familiar... does your father do business, or something?"

"Something like that, yes." I replied vaguely, and changed the subject quickly. He either didn't notice or chose not mention it. "Now, I didn't come here for idle small talk. Can you give me the specifics on my job?"

"Oh yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "Pretty simple. You watch him. Almost day and night. Especially when he's repairing Stark Tower. Try to put up with him– I swear, that guy has a sharp tongue. He'll turn anything you say into an insult against you."

"Noted."

"Oh, one more thing." He dug around in his pocket and produced a small little device the size of an iPod nano. He handed it to me. "He wears this bracelet kind of thing- it deposits this special kind of poison into his veins that has been tested to knock him out, god or not."

I felt my throat close up at the word _god. _

"And that little thing allows you to administrate the poison. So if he misbehaves, just twist the little red dial... try not to deploy too much, though."

"Right." I said shortly, and pocketed it. "Anything else I need to know?"

He stopped in front of a door and swiped his badge across a pad. A green light blinked on, and he turned to flash me a grin before opening the door for me and waving me in. "Um, watch yourself. He's in a bad mood today."

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!**

**Review, favorite, follow.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Loki's POV**

I could hear them coming a mile off.

That was one perk of being the trapped in a building made of metal and concrete; you could hear everything that went on in the entire facility. All you had to do was hold very still. And then the entire building came alive with sounds; whirring of machinery, the murmurs of conversation, and the two very loud sets of footsteps coming his way.

I was lying down in my bed, eyes closed, just listening... and fuming. At first, my little punishment had been rather amusing. It was fun to see the fear in people's eyes as they looked at me, even if I had been sent there as a consequence for my failed conquest. They were wary of me. They didn't make eye contact and kept their heads down.

But that was the thing about mortals, most particularly Midgardians. They didn't stay silent for long. After a while, they began to get a bit snarky, dropping little insults here and there about my failure. The fear started to fade away. Sure, most still avoided me and didn't even try to meet my gaze, but the ones I had worked with got familiar with me and made their little comments as many times as they could.

So it was only a natural instinct that I never let anyone get familiar with me.

Their wit was nothing compared to my own. When I had first set foot on Midgard as a criminal come to "repent", I had been determined to coexist with the mortals with as little interaction with them as possible. I had been convinced that if I engaged in conversation, their humanity would rub off on me (which was one thing about them that I despised– well, the one thing I despised more than anything else).

That resolution no longer existed. Now I tried to fit in as many slurs as physically possible, insulting them left and right, so quickly that most of the time they didn't even understand what was going on. Another thing that frustrated me– there was no one around smart enough to comprehend the genius with which I insulted them (which is, as some of you may know, exasperating).

There was the sound of the door opening, and I heard that one mortal, Agent Kim: "Uh, watch yourself. He's in a bad mood today." And then I heard them both walk in.

I recognized Kim's steps immediately– it was slightly reminiscent of Thor's. Almost like heavy skipping, but, of course, it was a very manly skip (as the prince had once informed me).

The other set was unfamiliar, but after short debate I decided that it was a woman's. They were softer and more delicate, and reminded me of a cat's tread.

Instantly I set up a profile in my mind- new people meant new dossiers- and estimated that she was tall and thin, considering the noise (or rather, lack of noise) with which she walked. I also ruled out the possibility of her being vain or appearance obsessed– the tell-tale click of high-heels were absent from her gait. From what I could tell, she wasn't wearing any jewelry.

"So you sit here..." I heard someone pull out a chair. No doubt it was Kim, showing the rookie around. "...and pretty much just watch him. Today's your first, so he gets a day off. But tomorrow he's back on duty. There's a schedule on that computer for the upcoming week, if you cared to find it. But it's mostly just sitting and watching. Not even that. Just sit there. If he does anything suspicious, call us over. And if you need anything- anything at all-" Here I guessed he winked at her. "-just give /me/ a call."

"I'll be sure to." Her voice surprised me– I was expecting something high-pitched and annoying like the other mortal women who worked here, but instead it was more mellow, and almost musical. And there also seemed to be the trace of a foreign accent. It was hard to tell, considering that her tone was heavily laden with sarcasm (an emotion I was quite familiar with). "I mean, how could I not miss your endearing company?"

I almost smirked. It was interesting to hear someone reject Kim for once. Most of the women here fell for his clumsy charm (another attribute similar to Thor).

"You've got a sharp mind, Carren." I was grateful for the name and added it to the mental profile. The way he said it was interesting; rolling the r's slightly. Making it sound like "Caw-den." "I'll be sure to remember that about you. Which reminds me..."

He rapped his knuckles against the glass of my cage and I scowled. As if I could ignore his obnoxious yapping. "Loki! You got a visitor– she's actually your new supervisor. So... make nice, okay?" And with that, I heard him leave.

His word choice intrigued me; it wasn't often that he called me "Loki" in exchange for "Laufeyson", which most people seemed to adopt as my first name here.

Before I had a chance to ponder this, though, I was reminded of the new girl's presence by the sound of her pulling out her chair and sitting down.

I waited for her to speak– every supervisor I had landed myself with seemed to have felt compelled to try to make conversation. Usually starting simple, like, "Um, hi, I'm your new supervisor..." which I thought was rather lacking in tact. It wasn't like new guards for a jail introduced themselves to their prisoners, did they?

Others tried to lecture me, like, "Now, I don't want any funny business..." which I started to expect from all the men. It seemed to be some sort of customary Midgardian male greeting, which I was greatly familiar with (what, with being Thor's "brother" all these years). These I responded with a pithy comment, usually degrading their mortality or intelligence.

But she- Carren- didn't say a word. She simply sat there, and (from the clicks of her mouse) browsed her computer, no doubt searching for the schedule mentioned by Kim.

It was a pleasant surprise– I had no interest in wading through idle, awkward chit-chat with a mortal. Especially not a mortal whose city I attempted to destroy a mere three to four months ago.

My blissfully free-of-conversation silence was interrupted, however, by some sort of high-pitched wail that I could only surmise was one of those god-awful new genres of music Midgardians were listening to nowadays.

All of my original gratitude (however small) towards the mortal woman now evanesced, and I shifted my position ever so slightly on my bed to open my eyes and glare at the girl.

Her appearance came as something of a surprise.

The only thing I had seen women wearing in this realm had been business outfits and military uniforms, so her clothes made me do a double-take.

They consisted of a rather baggy red T-shirt advertising a musical band comprised of four people, pants made of a strange, fluffy-looking material, and a bed sheet wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

It was such a bizarre collage of clothing that I blinked a couple of times, slightly taken aback, before noticing the rest of her.

Her hair was nothing like the neatly done, coiffed locks of the beautiful Asgardian Æsir or even the more muted styles of Midgard, instead resembling that of one who had just waken up and had not even bothered to look in a mirror (now that I thought about it, that's probably what she did).

Hairstyle aside, her hair itself was a light brown color, straight and rather long.

Her face was completely free of makeup or embellishment, which I must say came as something as a relief. I personally thought that the colors with which Midgardian women adorned themselves with were rather vulgar and unnatural-looking and they were constantly distracting me from what they were actually saying (add that to their list of irritating attributes).

Another comment on her overall appearance; it was refreshing. Most of the mortals here were so made-up and stiff and... just so uptight that it had an unsettling effect on me (not that I ever let them know). But the carelessness with which this girl had dressed and arrived- so unlike the crisp uniforms and neat suits I had witnessed so far- was... refreshing. An honest fluke in these concrete walls of insincerity. As invigorating as a breath of warm spring air in the desolation of winter.

Apparently I had been contemplating her appearance for a bit longer than was socially acceptable, because she quirked her eyebrows. "Oh is my music disturbing you, your highness?"

My mouth formed a retort before I even had chance to think about it. "Music? I'm sorry; I thought that was _you_ screaming in pain and turned around to verify."

The corner of her lips twitched. "And I'm sure then you would have watched happily, eating popcorn, while I died a slow and painful death, yes?"

"No."

Her eyebrows drew together, and she seemed confused by my answer, like she had thought I would agree. "No?"

"No." I repeated. "There's no popcorn in here. And I also feel compelled to say that I can fathom no realistic reason as to why I would want to eat this greasy "popped corn" anyway."

"Meaning you've eaten it before."

"Pardon?"

"How would you know it was greasy if you've never eaten it?"

"Oh, I just assumed; you know, mortals and grime generally fit together marvelously."

"You should know that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

"In this case, just you."

"Who is the one here that's a) a prisoner and b) behind a wall of bullet-proof glass?"

"Directions are all relative on a circular planet. For instance, from my point of view, _you_ are the one that's behind glass."

"For one that hates mortals, you seem to know quite a bit about us."

"How so?"

"Well, you know that popcorn is indeed "popped corn", and you know that our planet is circular."

"No. I'm just not a witless, blundering oaf like the rest of you."

"You just slammed yourself."

"Did I?"

"Yes. You just labeled my race as "witless and blundering", correct?"

"Must I reiterate? Should I spell it out for you?"

She ignored my sarcasm and plowed on with her explanation. "Well, you should just know that it was these "witless and blundering oafs" that caused you to ultimately fail in your invasion of the Earth. Hm, if you're beaten by people with no intelligence, then what does that make you?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. And, to my surprise, I found myself without any comeback. For one of the only times in my life, I was speechless.

When she discovered that I wasn't going to reply, Carren smiled smugly in triumph and turned back to her computer.

It was then that I knew.

No matter how refreshing she was, she was going to have to go.

* * *

"Well, Kim? How did it go?"

"She's an amazing girl, Director. You were right. This is going to be a very interesting few weeks."

"Why? What happened?"

"They had a conversation, and she managed to match him."

"Not a light achievement. That's Carren for you– never without her wit."

"No kidding. She just bested Laufeyson in a full-out insult war. I could barely follow along on the cameras."

"Mm. Well, we'll see how it works out. Laufeyson's going to Stark Tower tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, tell Tony to go over there as well. Let's see how she deals with Iron Man, who is just as annoying as Laufeyson is. God help her when they're together."

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I would like it if some of you dropped a review. ;)**

**Review, favorite, follow.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Carren's POV**

Albeit slightly insufferable, he was quite an interesting character.

I had learned much from my little chat with him. One, that he was as well-equipped for a sarcastic insult war as I was (I knew that it was only by chance that I managed to best him) and two, that he hated mortals.

Although I guess the second was inferable, considering that he tried to take over our planet.

I tacked his picture up on my wall, over the previous ones. It was a habit of mine; whenever I decided to figure someone out, I printed out all of their files and put them up on my bedroom walls. I knew that I could just look at them all digitally, but something about having a hard copy was appealing to me. It kind of made things clearer.

The SHIELD files I had been allowed access to were woefully uninformative. Just a few notes here and there that even a drunk five year old could have figured out. So of course I did what anyone else would do: cheated.

Finding out things I wasn't supposed to know was one of my fortes. I managed to hack into the restricted files, easy as pie. It was almost too easy, and for a moment I was suspicious, but the information enclosed within the documents I discovered were so intriguing that my suspicions were quickly pushed away.

Most of it was pretentious soldier babble, but when I sifted through the drivel some vital facts emerged.

The most preeminent among them was his magical capabilities. Apparently so far SHIELD had witnessed him taking over minds with the assistance of a scepter, creating illusions of himself, driving people crazy, bullet immunity, and extremely fast regeneration abilities.

I scrolled downwards and paraphrased the interesting bits, printing them out in big, bold letters so I could read them from across the room.

His personality file was especially attention-worthy. According to the writer, Loki Laufeyson was arrogant, intelligent, immensely proud, self-absorbed, and extremely sarcastic. The only reasons for this was questionable: "Possible slighted feelings involving his brother? See "Thor Odinson.""

I didn't even bother to look over Thor's tab– I had already seen it, after all.

All in all, the files weren't too helpful when it came to personality. It only told me what I already knew.

And what I already knew wasn't what I was looking for.

To me, it was obvious that he was hiding his true personality, his true wants and desires, covering it up with a simple shell of sarcasm and snark.

Although it wasn't required, my goal was to break through that shell.

In the meantime... I snatched a pen from my bedside and grabbed a sheet of paper. I was a writer after all. And I had a new subject to write about.

* * *

**Loki's POV**

It was infuriating that I had let a mortal get the best of me.

Just a simple close of my eyes and I could see that superior smirk of hers, hovering about her lips as she turned away, as if I had no longer been worthy of her attention.

My first instinct had been to jump up and curse her a thousand times with sorcery, but that was rash and stupid. And the cold circlets of metal wrapped around my wrists bit into my skin and reminded me of my position, and of her position, and of the consequences it I misbehaved here. I was not on my home turf. If I attacked now she would have every advantage except for the element of surprise. And surprise didn't stretch very long.

So I bit back my anger and bided my time. That was the thing about mortals: their lives were so ridiculously short, and they were so ridiculously vulnerable. Midgardians were a bit of a joke. Humanity and mortality made a horrid combination, and yet here they were. Their utter compassion and empathy added to their short lives made them so susceptible to damage that it was almost amusing.

So the next day when she showed up I completely ignored her.

She didn't talk to me either, instead choosing to settle down at her station and open up a notebook. I made a mental note of the pen in her hand. Perhaps she was an artist? Or a writer?

My attention was diverted from the question when some other officials entered the room. I recognized them. They were the ones that came to collect me when it came to work.  
If I was working at Stark Tower, I hoped that that insufferable Iron Man wouldn't be there. If it wasn't bad enough that I couldn't possess him with my scepter during the battle of this city. He had to come back and annoy me with his petty taunts.

"May I help you?" Carren asked the two men in a bored fashion, but she eyed them warily.

"We have orders to take Laufeyson to Stark Towers for remodeling work."

"Right. Rebuilding." She sighed and rose from the seat, stretching. "I guess I'm coming with you."

"Um, lady, that really isn't necessary..."

She immediately lashed out. "Pardon? I am a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, same as you two. My order is to supervise Loki. So I shall supervise Loki." She produced a badge with the organization's logo on it and tossed it onto the desk for them to see. "And don't "lady" me. I believe a "ma'am" would be more appropriate."

Both of them were stunned, and for a moment I appreciated her snark. At least it was entertaining. And the women of Asgard never stood up for themselves. That was one fascinating thing about Midgardians.

Finally one of the guards straightened and saluted her. "Ma'am." The other one followed suit.

She gave a curt nod of approval and turned towards my cell.

I barely had time to internally groan before she called out. "Loki, we're going."

"Were we?" I retorted sarcastically. "I apologize for being out of the loop; I didn't notice you three talking about me two feet away."

"Just checking. You know, you might have been so absorbed in your thoughts of world-domination that you didn't bother to eavesdrop." She shot back.

I have been told that I am rather proficient at giving people evil looks. And the one I shot her now was a perfect evil "ten." Just because she managed to best me in a single match of verbal wit she thought herself better than I? Laughable.

She stared back, completely unintimidated, and for a nanosecond I had to admire her courage. Definitely not like the Asgardian women I had known, save for Sif.

A scowl twisted my features and my stomach churned. Sif.

But I pushed her out of my mind. No point in thinking about her now.

* * *

Transportation from one place to another was always irritating at best, exasperating at worst.

Apparently, me being "the-guy-who-tried-to-dominate-the-world" was a big deal (shocking, I know), because the security measures placed upon me were insane. As if I hadn't already been warned (multiple times) by Odin the consequences that would ensue if I attempted to escape my imprisonment on Midgard.

And the consequences made me shiver. It was enough to keep me in check... for now.

Waiting out my sentence of three years wasn't completely terrible. Helheim, three years was merely a blink in the span of my lifetime.

Anyway, back to the situation at hand.

One of my main jobs on Midgard was to rebuild Stark Towers, which had almost become obliterated by my attack on New York. Tony was quite bitter about that, and had practically demanded my assistance. To be honest with myself, I would have to say that half of the work was putting up with him and his so-called-clever remarks. The good thing was that he was a busy man, and was more often than not out on various business trips. I prayed that that would be the case today.

Upon my arrival, though, I became immediately aware of a tall figure in an impeccable navy blue suit apparently waiting for me.

I internally sighed, mentally preparing myself for a very long and undoubtedly tiring day.

"Well, isn't it the sociopathic Norse god we all know and love." Tony Stark greeted cheerfully. He was chewing on gum while he talked. How terribly impolite.

"Coming from a person whose presence is unbearable at best, I'd say that the accusation is invalid and unjustified... hypocrite." I retorted, crossing my arms.

There was a snort of hastily disguised laughter from behind me that I assumed was Carren's. At least she possessed the amount of intelligence in that puny brain of hers to be able to appreciate my insults.

Unfortunately, her chuckle drew Iron Man's attention to her, and he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of her.

"And who is this?" He sidestepped me to approach her.

It was then that I realized that Carrren seemed to be gathering an unusual amount of male attention. First Kim, then Stark (although that could be attributed to the fact that Stark directed his attention towards anything in a skirt). I turned my head slightly so that I could see her out of the corner of my vision. Was it possible that she was attractive? I hadn't paid any attention the day before.

It was impossible to perceive her figure in the clothes that she was wearing (almost the same outfit as yesterday, save for a different shirt) but when I looked at her face, I noted her fine-boned features, pink lips, and wide, naturally shaded eyes. She was pretty by Æsir standards, possibly beautiful in terms of mortals.

And there was something interesting about her amber eyes. A kind of strange, unique glow.

Probably a trick of the light.

"Agent Paradizo." I won't lie; I was pleased when I heard her blunt, no-nonsense tone. Most women fell at Stark's feet. "Loki's new supervisor."

"Supervisor, huh?" What I felt was a shark-like grin alighted Stark's features. His eyes flicked from her feet to her eyes and everything in between. "Pretty admirable of you to take a job like that. I mean, managing _him_ is not the prettiest job out there."

"Thank you." She sounded pretty bored, like she was talking to her waiter and not a famous genius. "Now could we please go inside, Mr. Stark? Do you not want your tower to get built?"

"Brisk. I like that." He stepped aside and waved us in. "Be my guest."

* * *

"Aw, c'mon, Rudolph! I know you can do better than that!"

I let a flicker of irritation show on my face as I adjusted the room support through sorcery, shifting its position only slightly to the left.

"Much better. No need to infect everybody with your bad mood, Reindeer Games– try to act like you want to be here!"

Stark was proving to be much more annoying that I had previously remembered; it was like he was attempting to show off (possibly for Carren) just how much he was able to drive me mad with his woefully inadequate insults.

I sighed, and heard my sigh echoed from across the room.

I turned my head ever-so-slightly and saw that it was Carren who had exhaled. She met my eyes for the first time that day and I could see that she was just as tired of Stark's pithy comments as I was.

In grudging mutual agreement, the next time that Stark said something ridiculous, I sighed, and then she sighed after me.

And the next time.

And the next time.

It seemed that, over the span of a mere day, we had both managed to find something that we were in agreement of (no matter how reluctant we were to admit it). Our entire relationship was basically communicated solely on exhalation.

But (even though I would never say it out loud) deep down it felt nice to agree with someone on something again. To feel like I wasn't alone.

**A/N: Thank you all so much to those who reviewed and followed and favorited! I really appreaciate it! **

**I hope that their relationship isn't progressing too fast. XD**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Carren's POV**

Two weeks went by. And I learned a few things.

One of those things positively alarmed me.

I stormed into SHIELD headquarters, and for once I had taken the care to dress a little bit more formally. (Meaning that I wasn't decked out in my usual "just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-didn't-give-a-crap-about-how-I-looked" outfit.)

This time I had shoved a T-shirt over my head and worn jeans.

Anyway, even in this, I was drawing quite a few looks among the various agents and businessmen dawdling in the lobby with their leather briefcases and manilla folders undoubtedly filled with the latest news on our bases on the outskirts of Jakarta, or wherever else SHIELD was spying on.

The annoying secretary at the desk (Becca, I think her name was) looked up and scowled when I walked in. Since our first meeting, she had never failed to toss a scathing comment at me (usually degrading my morality or sense of fashion) whenever I came in for my job.

But this time I cut her off before she even had a chance to open her mouth. "I need to see Fury."

Her face soured as if she had been force-fed a lemon. "_Director_ Fury doesn't see little girls like you."

Her cracks on my maturity were starting to get a little old. I was in a bad mood today anyway. "Oh, he'll make an exception for me. Now, I would greatly appreciate it if you quit questioning me. Last time I checked, I'm a rank higher than you."

Again, Becca scowled, making her pretty face look a lot less pretty. "I can't let you in even if I wanted to, stupid. He's in an important meeting about Laufeyson."

"Even better." I pushed passed the reception desk and headed down the hall, flashing my SHIELD badge at the guards who tried to stop me. They fell back to their posts.

Like I expected, Becca got up from her chair and tailed me, hissing like a punctured tire. "You can't just barge into a meeting! This is important; it's about the safety of our city."

"Save it for someone who cares."

"There are some very important people here– the board members of SHIELD sent some representatives to speak to Fury."

"How about a little less talk and a little more shut-the-hell-up?"

"You're a disgrace to SHIELD, Paradizo. It's a case of insubordination. How could you be so–!?"

It was at this moment that I glimpsed a "Meeting In Progress: Do Not Disturb" sign on the door of room A7. So naturally I pushed it open, Becca still at my heels.

No matter how many times I did it, I would never get tired of the shock on people's faces when I did outrageous things. Barging into important meetings with important people, for instance, was especially entertaining.

Nick Fury stood at the head of a long glass table, standing up, gesturing animatedly to a diagram being projected at the front of the room; I caught a few words about security. About ten other men and women in business suits were sitting around the table, holding glasses of water, briefcases open and spilling various sheafs of paper filled with numbers and calculations. The surprise on their faces as they took in my appearance was rather amusing.

I've been told I have a strange sense of humor. I now believe it.

"We have a time limit," I announced, knowing and delighting in the fact that they had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.

"Agent Paradizo," Fury said, and I heard a warning in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

It was at this time that Becca decided to speak up. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that her face was pink with anger. "I tried to stop her, sir, but she just wouldn't listen." She paused, obviously relishing the idea of getting me in the trouble I deserved. "She just flits around, sir, not listening to anyone–"

"I have news about Loki." I cut her off, looking straight into Nick's eyes, taunting him. "But I'm sorry that I interrupted something of undoubted importance..."

The lure of possibly vital information was my security. Humans were too curious for their own good; I knew that and used it to my advantage.

Sure enough, Fury gave a tiny sigh. He knew I had won him over and I knew that he hated it. I smirked as he spoke. "Miss Robinson, you are excused."

Becca blinked in surprise. I don't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a dismissal. If anything, she would have expected _me_ to get dismissed.

"But Director–"

"_Now_, Miss Robinson."

Her pink complexion grew to a shade resembling salmon. "Yes, sir." She muttered furiously. And left.

"Aget Paradizo, what's this so-called information?" Despite his bored tone, I knew he was intrigued.

I allowed myself a brief, triumphant smile before changing my demeanor to something a bit more sober. "Well, it's more of a warning than information."

"What kind of warning?"

The businessmen and women in the room were eyeing with skeptical looks plastered onto their faces, no doubt wondering how a girl like me could have any type of information.

One had the courage to speak up. "If I may interrupt–"

"You may not." I said bluntly. "But you were planning on interrupting if I gave you permission or not, so what is it?"

His face flushed but he forged on. "Who _are_ you?"

Director Fury spoke for me. "This is Agent Carren Paradizo; in charge of supervising Loki Laufeyson during his working hours."

I shot him a sharp look at so casually tossing out my name like that; he knew I preferred to stay an enigma. He pointedly ignored it.

_Fine. He wants to play that way?_

"Ladies and gentleman," I began. "During the couple weeks that I've known Loki Laufeyson, I've learned a few things." I swallowed. "Loki is a time bomb."

Dead silence. I took this as my cue to continue.

"His sentence here is three years, correct? That's the time we have left, at the maximum. Between now and three years from now, I will guarantee you that he will escape from this facility- at least try to- and wreak havoc on our world."

"How would you know about this?" A woman asked, leaning forward. 'Kavanaugh', read her name tag.

"It's simple, really," I replied. "I put myself in his shoes. Use your brains! He is trapped in our captivity, on our world, until the allotted time of three years has expired." I held up three fingers for emphasis, and then retracted them one by one. "After that, he will be transported back to his world, Asgard, and kept in a dungeon for all eternity."

I placed a manilla folder on the table and flipped through it, producing a piece of paper. "I did some research through SHIELD's files on Asgardian magic."

"You were never authorized to access those files." Fury said immediately. I scoffed.

"When has that ever stopped me? You really need to get more powerful firewalls, Fury. Up your game or drop out. But your online security incompetency is beside the point. The point is, after extensive research and calculations, I came to a conclusion."

"And what would that conclusion be, Agent Paradizo?"

I gritted my teeth at the title but kept my cool. "That Loki would have a much better chance of escaping our little prison of steel and concrete over here than he would in Asgard."

There was silence again. Then,

"Laufeyson surrendered. That's it. Game over. Why would he try to escape?"

This came from a corpulent man smoking a fat cigar. I laughed at his remark.

"My good sir, have you ever lost an argument? Not the best feeling, is it? Now imagine that the winner of the argument followed you _everywhere_, mocking you, rubbing your defeat in your face and tearing down everything that you because of that one loss. Now amplify that tenfold. Wouldn't /you/ want some revenge?" I looked over each face of the people gathered. Some of them looked skeptical, others merely blank– but the collective emotion in their expressions were fear.

_They fear Loki,_ I realized. _I'll bet most of them are very uneasy, having him here on earth. Well, they were right to be scared_.

"Our security is top-of-the-line. Laufeyson could never escape, even if he tried it a thousand times. I organized the security myself."

I turned to the speaker.

This one was another woman, this one with short golden hair cut in a bob around her head. Her cheekbones were high, her features sharp. Her eyes reminded me of the ice that settled above a pond during winter. The ice that concealed the freezing waters that lay beneath.

Her demeanor was easily recognizable; it was one that I had seen many times before. Haughty, cutting, succinct.

"It doesn't matter." I dismissed her; her personality type was one that hated to be ignored or looked over. She wouldn't like it if I took her or her efforts lightly, so that's exactly what I did. Did I mention that I have a bit of a sadistic personality? "Loki will have mapped this out. He is extremely intelligent– a genius, actually. And he is a god." My throat tightened at _god_.

"He will have every little detail, every little variable planned and controlled. Everything mapped out to the second. And this guy doesn't just have a Plan B. He has a Plan C, a Plan D, a Plan E, a Plan F– all the way to the end of the alphabet. After he makes a plan, nothing you throw at him will be able to stop him. And you've been giving him an awful lot of reasons to plan. Once he gets out of that cozy little cell you've rented for him, there will be nothing standing in his way. He will tear this world apart and love every second of it. At that point, I'm guessing that consequences will be trivial to him. He won't care what happens to him afterwards as long as he gets as much revenge as he can against our world." I paused. "He must be fun at parties."

My synopsis had the desired effect. Everyone was dead silent. After a long moment, someone spoke.

"So what you're saying is that Laufeyson is plotting our demise at this very moment, and nothing we do will be able to stop him." This was the Director. It was more of a statement of fact than it was a question.

I flashed Fury a smile, trying and succeeding at appearing as if all of this had absolutely no effect on me. "Pretty much."

"So there's nothing we can do?"

"Well, no. You have two options. Well, three actually."

"Give them to me."

"They're not pretty, Director." I knew that my cautions were unnecessary. He would hear me out no matter what. I had captured his attention, hook, line, and sinker.

"It doesn't matter. Just throw them out there."

I had to hide another smile. I held up a finger. "Option number one: you do nothing."

Nick gave me his famous one-eyed glare, which I had to admit was pretty intimidating. He was rather good at giving people evil looks. "How is that supposed to help?"

"It's not." I replied, and my lips twisted into a smirk. "But it's an option."

"No, it really isn't. Stop screwing around, Carren."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis now? What happened to Agent Paradizo?"

"_Stop screwing around, Carren._"

"You really are no fun at all, Director." I held up another finger. "Option number two: you call in Odin and Thor to retrieve Loki and take him back to Asgard. This would throw off Loki's scheming immensely, and I doubt that he would have finished with his escape plan on such short notice."

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. They were already internally deciding that this was the wisest course of action. Fools.

"However, there are two crucial flaws with this plan. The first one being that you have to get ahold of Asgard first. And how would you do that? It's not like you have Lord Odin in your phone contacts, right? And if you contact him, there is no guarantee that they would call you back in time. Immortals have a terrible sense of time.

"Even if they did manage to contact you in time, there is always the possibility that Loki- after hearing of his move- will throw caution completely to the winds and just make a break in the transition period."

I saw Fury tighten his grip on the edge of the table. "And the last option, then?"

"Well, this one is a bit far-fetched, but..." I hesitated and made my pitch. "You change his mind."

"What?"

"You change Loki's mind. You show him that earth isn't worth destroying, show him that he shouldn't take his vengeance out on us."

"Ridiculous." Fury turned around, back facing me. "He's beyond reason."

"On the contrary. We are _making_ him beyond reason. Don't you see, Director? He's lonely. He's isolated. He is surrounding himself with sarcasm and anger and bitterness because he's simply _lonely_. And everything that we do just further convince him that earth should be destroyed. So you had better make him change his mind for the better, or else thousands of innocent people will die and it will be all SHIELD'S fault!" I stopped to take a breath.

My argument had the desired effect. All of the men and women present were considerably paler.

Finally, Fury spoke. "Thank you, Carren, for telling us this." He surveyed the people gathered. "We shall take you and your... opinions... into consideration."

I knew a dismissal when I saw one. And I would leave. My job was done. I had them convinced.

I left.

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